


Starlight

by macabre_monkey



Category: The Last Herald Mage, Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Massage, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre_monkey/pseuds/macabre_monkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vanyel remembers the Shadow Lover's promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I promised typhe some fluff. And I also told her I was writing some porn featuring top!Vanyel. Soooooo…here is some fluffporn. I hope it was worth the wait.

Once he was away from the prying eyes of the other Council members, Vanyel stretched and yawned, working out the kinks in his neck and back, the result of three gods-be-damned hours of inanity. Sometimes he just wanted to stand up and yell at them, or knock some heads together. They were at war, the king was dying, and _still_ people found time to bicker over inconsequential nonsense. Half of these meetings were nothing more than posturing, stroking the egos of the nobility and the most powerful merchants; people whose support Valdemar needed, and they couldn’t afford to alienate. Two of them were currently arguing about which of them was most to blame in a minor diplomatic incident with the wife of the Rethwellen ambassador—a woman who was notoriously self important and insular, and easily offended, as well; what the man was thinking, marrying a woman like that, and then dragging her with him out of the country, Vanyel would never know. But the crisis was averted—the Rethwellen ambassador was definitely _not_ besotted with his beautiful and spirited young wife, and well aware of her temperament, and that she was perhaps even looking for an excuse to make trouble out of sheer boredom, since she wouldn’t deign to visit Valdemaran theaters or parks, and felt Valdemaran Bards simply didn’t do Rethwellen music justice, and had alienated very nearly everyone at Court.

There were so many times these days that Vanyel wished he was back on the front, hellish as it had been; at least he didn’t have to coddle the Karsites; he just had to kill them. And Vanyel was frighteningly good at that. His talents were certainly being wasted in Haven; it wasn’t as if no one else could do his job, or at least this part of it, anyroad. The rest of it—managing the spies currently ensconced at the Border, the Heraldic Circle, being King’s Own in all but name…well, maybe no _one_ person could do all that, but the right people could certainly manage it. He understood Randale’s logic in this situation—he was the last Adept level mage Valdemar had, apart from Savil, and he was too valuable to risk at the front. He was being held in reserve, to be used strategically. It made perfect sense, truly. But that didn’t help assuage the feeling that he was utterly _useless_ here.

Gods, he was too tired to worry about that right now. He was home at last, and as he twisted the door handle, he really hoped Stef was there, and not too tired to maybe give him a neck rub. The fire was stoked, and a cascade of bright auburn hair spilled over the back of the sofa. Vanyel smiled at the sight, pulling off his boots and setting them by the wardrobe, and hanging his cloak on its peg. Military habits had rubbed off on him after roughly ten years of field service, and he carefully folded each item of clothing as he took it off. He pulled on his favorite, ratty old clothes, and walked over to the sofa, dropping a kiss on top of Stefen’s head before taking his place beside him, slouching comfortably. Stefen stirred, and stretched, looked at Vanyel and started to say something, but was interrupted by a massive yawn.

“When you did you get in?” Stef asked, rubbing his eyes and laying his head on Van’s shoulder.

“Just now,” he replied, wrapping his arm around Stef and pulling him close. “The council meeting ran long, as usual. Lady Jaelwethirean is at it again.”

Stefen made a sound of disgust. He’d had his own encounters with her, and even _his_ charm was no match for her prejudice.

“My thoughts exactly.” It didn’t help that the woman had taken a liking to Vanyel, and he was very nearly the only Valdemaran she was willing to tolerate. He supposed it was some combination of his rank as a Herald, respect and fear of his mage abilities, and of course, the fact that he’d had the decency to be born into a noble family, even if they didn’t wield much political power. Of course, she didn’t know he was shaych, and if she ever found out she’d likely be mortally offended.

“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout her,” Stefen mumbled into his shoulder.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Vanyel stroking Stefen’s hair. But soon he soon noticed that Stef was quite tense.

It was too easy sometimes to forget how stressful and _physically_ demanding Stefen’s job was; he used quite a lot of energy exercising his Gift for Randale; even though there were a couple of Healers who could pain-block now, Stefen was the only one who could do it without sending him into a trance. So he was still very in demand, and on top of that, he had also managed to figure out how to use his Bardic Gift on other people while using his pain-blocking Gift on Randi. The days that the king needed to be present for Court or Council meetings were actually good days, because Stef kept Randi pain free _and_ put the rest of the Councilors in more relaxed moods. And he was an invaluable member of Court in his own right; his rank as the king’s personal Bard granted him access to all circles, and he was immensely popular, especially with ladies his mother’s age, as well as the younger set, who were simultaneously scandalized and fascinated by his lowly antecedents and the way he flaunted his sexuality. He kept abreast of the gossip, letting Van know about any potential scandals that were brewing, soothed hurt feelings, made the right people feel important. With the war escalating, tensions were high, and Van was certain there would have been feuds breaking out without Stefen’s mellowing influence.

He did all that and more; and barely received a thank you, or even acknowledgement, and then he came home to Vanyel’s demands. Van turned his head and nuzzled Stefen’s hair, inhaling his scent, and sent him what strength he had through their lifebond. He felt Stef’s face stretch into a grin, and Stef lifted his head and kissed the tip of Van’s nose, sending a wordless _thank you_ back through the bond as he did.

“Why don’t you turn around, and let me give you a neck rub, hmmm?” Van asked, voice low.

“Gods, that would be lovely,” Stef replied. He obediently turned around and pulled his hair to the side, baring his pale, thin neck. Van turned as well, crossing his feet and ankles and reached out to grab Stefen’s shoulders; he dug his thumbs into the base of Stefen’s spine, and he groaned in pleasure, head lolling to the side. “You can stop doing that in about a hundred years,” he said, contented. Van smiled, and increased the pressure, moving his hands slowly out to the sides and slowly back again toward his neck. As he felt the tension drain out of Stef, he relaxed as well, all the day’s troubles and stress melting away as he focused on Stefen.

He paused, resting his hands on Stefen’s arms, and he leaned forward to whisper in Stef’s ear, “Let’s take this to the bed, shall we?” Stefen looked over his shoulder at Van, an assessing look in his eyes. They didn’t make love nearly as often as either of them would like; either because of conflicting schedules, or just being too damn tired.

With a smile, he got up, and walked to the bed; Vanyel followed. He stripped off his shirt and carelessly tossed it to the floor, pulled the bedcovers down, stretched out on his stomach, and looked over his shoulder to give Vanyel an arch glance. Van reached under the bed for his medical kit; he knew he had a selection of massage oils in it, and as his finger traced the names written on each flask, he settled on a plain, unscented one. He carefully straddled Stefen’s lower back, pouring some oil into his palm and warming it before rubbing it into Stefen’s skin. Stef lowered his head, using his arms for a pillow, and let his mind drift, content for the moment to let his control slip, and just _feel_ for once.

Vanyel worked his hands all over Stefen’s back and shoulders, one moment kneading the taught muscles firmly, the next switching to fleeting, feather-light caresses that raised gooseflesh and cause Stefen to shiver in reaction. They lost all track of time; there was no sense of urgency about this, no desperate need to get off. Tonight was about exploring, and gentle revelations.

Vanyel leaned forward, and pressed his lips ever so lightly against the back of Stefen’s neck. Stef hummed appreciatively, as the kisses continued, all the way across his shoulders, down his back, until he felt his breeches being slowly tugged off. Vanyel’s talented fingers began working the muscles in his left thigh, long fingers pressing into the muscle, seeking out the knots and patiently undoing them, inch by inch all the way down to his foot. He took his time making his way up Stefen’s other leg, pausing every now and then to press more chaste, almost ticklish kisses against the backs of his knees, his ankles, his feet.

He squeezed Stefen’s hips, urging him to roll over. He did, and Vanyel languorously kissed his mouth, hands still roaming all over Stefen’s body. Stefen slipped his hands underneath Vanyel’s shirt, feeling a scar on his belly; the L shaped one that seemed almost nondescript compared to the rest. Vanyel stopped kissing him for a moment, and pulled away just enough to look at Stefen’s face. He placed one of his hands over Stefen’s, holding it there.

_She said you won’t be alone._

_She promised._

“Van? You alright?” Stefen’s voice, rough with desire but tinged with concern, shook him out of his reverie. He refocused on Stefen, on what they were doing, and reverently traced the contours of his face.

“Fine,” he replied, leaning back down for another kiss, the pendant slipping from inside of his shirt and brushing Stef’s chest.

“Perfect,” he continued, kissing his way down to Stefen’s throat, using every bit of his projective Empathy to show Stefen how much of a treasure he was to him. He finally reached between them, taking Stefen’s cock in his hand, rubbing it gently.

“Gods,” Stefen gasped, writhing on the bed. “ _Vanyel_.”

Stefen reached down, and grabbed Van’s wrist, stilling his hand. Vanyel looked at him, inquisitive, and Stef met his eyes, and said, “I want you inside me.”

Somehow Van couldn’t be surprised by that; sometimes, like tonight, it was simply what they both needed. Wordlessly, he picked up the vial of oil, pouring more into his palm, rubbing it all over his fingers.

“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers tracing around Stefen’s entrance. He carefully inserted one, and was met with a little resistance. Not surprising, but Stefen didn’t seem to be feeling any discomfort. All the same, there was no rush, and he wanted to make the night last as long as possible.

He patiently used his finger to play with Stefen, waiting until his body seemed sufficiently loosened before gently slipping another finger inside. That earned a moan out of Stef, and he writhed just the slightest bit, moving his hips up and down, clearly loving the sensation. Van pressed more kisses to his throat and chest, also enjoying this role reversal.

It wasn’t long before Stefen decided that he was ready; Van pulled out his fingers and belatedly shed his clothes, rubbing another generous coating of the oil onto his cock. Stefen spread his legs wide, and Vanyel lined himself up at Stefen’s entrance, pressing against him, but not hard enough to enter him yet, savoring every moment of this, anticipating the warmth and tight feel of Stefen’s body engulfing him.

He went slowly, wanting to make sure Stefen wasn’t hurting. Stefen didn’t say anything, only closed his eyes and arched his neck, willing to take whatever Vanyel wanted to give him.

It was bliss; not just his own physical sensations, but knowing that he was giving Stefen the very thing Stef had given him so many times, the feeling of being taken over, consumed. As they moved together, Vanyel tenderly stroked Stefen’s face, his throat, loving everything about him. Having Stefen meant absolutely everything to him, and there was some vague notion in the back of his mind, that if he could make tonight good enough, it would make up for all the times, past _and_ future, that he wasn’t able to put Stefen first.

He leaned forward, resting most of his weight on Stefen so they could kiss again. Stefen shifted beneath him, raising his hips slightly and wrapping his legs around Vanyel’s waist. Stef felt so good, so _right_ , but even though it had been a while since he’d been in this position, Vanyel wasn’t finding it difficult to control himself. Because of their bond and his Empathy, limited though the latter was, he could sense that while Stefen didn’t get the same soul jarring pleasure out of being penetrated that Vanyel did, he was still enjoying this, the intimacy of it.

Their climax was approaching; building up slowly. They came so close, and for a while they were both striving for it and trying to hold it back, until Vanyel wrapped his hand around Stefen’s cock. It was an odd, slow release, and they moved with each other through it, and each little thrust seemed to push them even farther over the edge, and they rode the aftershocks so long that it left them limp and exhausted. Van could only lay there, panting and sweaty, Stef still clinging to him. After a moment he rolled over; Stefen followed.

He lay there for so long with his eyes closed, that Van thought he must have fallen asleep. Not that he could blame him. Watching Stefen sleep made him feel protective, but when he sat up to reach for the covers, Stefen’s eyes opened, and he made a wordless sound of protest. Van pulled the sheet up, still feeling too warm for the coverlet, and pulled Stef onto his chest. He thought they should probably make an effort to stay awake and talk, but just being together was nice, too. Sometimes, words just got in the way.


End file.
